Accents and Bhangra
by espergirl04
Summary: Accents and bhangra, those were the clinchers. RayNeela.


Definitely not the best that I've ever written…the idea just kind of popped into my head and I tried to go with it. I'm hoping it turned out okay.

Oh yeah, in this fic Neela and Michael broke up but for whatever reason she still moved out of Ray's apartment...

Disclaimer: Don't own ER or the characters…so please don't hurt me

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It was the accent. As soon as she opened her mouth and he heard her speak he was gone. There was something about British accents that got to him…and there was something about a British accent coming out of a tiny Indian girl that killed him. Killed. As in it caused a minor heart attack the first few times he talked to her. 

He was guilty, very very guilty. He was a good guy deep down, he needed someone to split the rent with, he was simply in need of a roommate. Those were his excuses. Really it was because he wanted to be able to be able to hear her talk all the time. It was great even when she was angry…well, especially when she was angry if he was being truthful. Then it became even more pronounced and a hint of Indian came through as well.

Bollocks and bloke. He loved it when she said those words. Or when she occasionally slipped and called cookies biscuits or soccer football.

Then there was the bhangra…

"I don't dance Ray, therefore I will not go to a club with you," tossing her head back she glared at him.

Shaking his head he gave a slightly evil grin, "See Neela, that might have worked but I know for a fact you do dance."

"Oh really?" she opened her locker and he leaned over her.

"I know for a fact that you got drunk at one of my gigs and started dancing with some random guy."

Groaning she banged her head against metal, "I was drunk, and do you have to keep bringing that up?"

He took a step back, "You my friend are never living it down."

"Bollocks."

Tossing her clothes around she finally settled on an outfit, Abby would be proud. It was one that her friend had chosen for her on a spontaneous shopping trip. And one that Neela had promised she would never wear. Ever.

He was staring at her, he couldn't help it. She was always beautiful but he had had his doubts about her ability to look sensual and sexy. Neela was far too conservative and proper for that. He had been wrong. By a lot. Because the woman standing in front of him was anything but conservative.

Her halter top was held up by a fine silver chain, the soft black material fell open exposing her black bra clasped together by a sparkling diamond design. Her dark jeans hugged her tightly before flaring gently around her black heels. He couldn't come up with any word to describe it, she was beyond beautiful.

Choking slightly he managed to speak, "You look…really…good."

Smiling she brushed past him, "Thanks."

He had thought that maybe she would be more outgoing in her new outfit but he was wrong. Once they reached the club she hung back allowing him to lead her. Heading straight to the floor he motioned around, "Come on."

She stood frozen, "Ray I told you, I can't dance."

"Neither can I but I can still attempt it." Really he didn't dance, he hated dancing. But he had seen her dance before…and it hadn't been with him. Not only was he guilty but he was selfish, he wanted her and if the only way he could be near her was dancing then so be it.

Realizing that maybe dancing first was a bad idea he pointed towards the bar and she nodded.

"Come on Neela," Ray grabbed her hands and started moving to the music. She glared at him then laughed.

Pulling away slightly she began to move her whole body, shoulders dipping and shaking, feet moving. Wrapping her arms around his neck she started grinding against him. God was she hot, and he knew that there was no way she ever would have let him get this close to him without a good excuse...such as dancing.

The accent and bhangra…

That was how he found himself completely obsessed with his small, perfect, Indian co-worker. Everyone around the hospital thought they were "together." After learning that she had broken up with Michael they had automatically assumed it was because of her roommate. They were wrong.

He found his hands sliding increasingly lower down her back and onto her thighs. The fact that she continued to dance closer, if that was even possible, encouraged him. Since she had finally decided to break it off with her army boy, as Ray had secretly referred to him, they had begun the weirdest relationship he had ever been in. And he had been in some weird ones…like Zoe for instance. But at least with her it had been clear what she had wanted. With Neela he had no idea.

At times it seemed like all she wanted was friendship with the, 'Ray, care for some Chinese?' Then afterwards it was, 'I think I'll be going home now. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?'

Then there were the times when it seemed she wanted more than friendship with the, 'Mind if I come over tonight, watch a movie maybe?' Then afterwards, 'It's a bit late isn't it? Is it all right if I stay here?'

Not that that lead to anything. All that happened was they would put on another movie and she'd fall asleep with her head on his lap, still…that was something, wasn't it?

And now she was sending even more mixed messages. Sure they were only dancing and she would dance like this with anyone, he wasn't that conceited. But he had a feeling that she was sending some pretty strong more than friends vibes.

"I must admit that you actually aren't such a shabby dancer. Not the best but you did well enough," she smiled up at him and grabbed his hand.

Hand grabbing. Was that a sign? He had experience with tall blondes and temperamental brunettes and here he was unable to interpret what was going on with a straight forward ex-roommate. God was he hopeless.

"Mind if I come over?"

"Sure," he felt her squeeze his hand slightly and he looked down at her. There was definitely something about the look on her face that told him that she was in a more than friend's mood. "My parents aren't home you know."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"So we have the whole place to ourselves?" she asked with mock delight, playing along.

"Yes."

"And what exactly do you have planned?"

"Whatever you want."

That night he had no trouble understanding her intentions…no trouble at all. The accent and the bhangra…those were the clinchers. Apparently his tattoos and hair gel had a similar affect on her…

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Hope you enjoyed it...please review! 


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